


Johnny and Hellboy

by bookeater_otaku, Shiroyuki9



Series: BPRD Insolite Chronicles [5]
Category: Hellboy (Comics), Hellboy - All Media Types, Johnny Maxwell - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookeater_otaku/pseuds/bookeater_otaku, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiroyuki9/pseuds/Shiroyuki9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories are often told about how the monsters were beaten, but we rarely know what happens to the heroes afterward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a crossover story between The Adventure of Johnny Maxwell (by Sir Terry Pratchett) and Hellboy (by Mike Mignola). 
> 
> So, as you can guess neither universe belong to us, we're just borrowing everybody for a while.

 

**What habitually happen after the "happily-ever-after"**

**applied on a never-ending story called life.**

 

 

Somewhere on the outskirt of London, in a rather old pub, a short haired blond youth was nursing a beer, looking grim and feeling sorry for himself. An action he normally did not partake. Drinking beer I meant. But feeling sorry for himself, oh that, he could probably tell you a lot about it. He considers himself a professional when it came to feel sorry for himself. He could win the Olympic of people feeling sorry for themselves, if he could lift his spirit high enough to participate.

 

Yes, Johnny was not in the greatest mood right about now.

 

It was not surprising considering what happened. And now he was sitting on a stool in a crowded pub late at night far from his bed in the college dormitory. An improvement for any college student, if any college student could have a said in the matter.

 

But many details in this setting that did much to contribute to Johnny’s mood.

           

First, as mentioned before, Johnny rarely drank alcohol. Or partake in any consumption of any mind altering substances other than a spicy curry from time to time when his finances allowed it.

 

Second, he was not permitted to leave. Oh, he was not kept here against his will. It was just heavily recommended that it would be better for every party concerned that he should stay in proximity until they wouldn’t need him anymore. In fact, they suggested he should stay inside where they could keep an eye on him. And after ten minutes of fidgeting and pacing he was squarely told to sit there, not touch anything and to talk only when spoken to.

 

The third point was closely related to the second and was the fact that beside him and the barkeep everybody else was from one law enforcement organisation or another. And to the great displeasure of the barkeep and said law enforcers, he was the only one drinking.

 

The pub was at the moment transformed into some kind of temporary head-quarter by the organisation that had the most members present in the room.  They all wore some kind of beige army pants and green jackets with a logo on the sleeve, a hand holding a broken sword.

 

They call themselves the B.P.R.D., the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defence. A paranormal police more like it.  Ha! The joke he could tell with this… Not that he had any joke he could do with this, but if he had they would be funny… To him at least.

 

A paranormal police… policing all the paranormally things out there apparently. Ha! Clearly they must be understaffed, since it is the first time he ever heard of them in his life. They certainly didn’t look like their number was in the phone book. To hush-hush for his taste if you asked him. Well… With what they normally dealt with he could understand why they didn’t advertise what they do.

 

He could understand that completely. He could relate to them even!

 

And maybe that’s why Johnny found his own though about them so bitter.

 

Being able to detach himself from the situation at hand was a trick he learned when he was younger. It's like he took the back seat in his own head and look at the driver (his rational side who conduct everyday life task, such as breathing and pay the taxes) and the one riding shot-gun (his other rational side, his thinking self responsible for doing homework and holding a conversation, who consider himself the _right_ rational side of Johnny, because both are too stubborn to admit being irrational) sitting in front arguing which direction to take because at some point in his life he took a wrong turn and now he’s completely lost and they don’t want to stop and ask for direction.

 

That's what he was feeling now (besides feeling sorry for himself): lost.

 

Where were they, those paranormal police for the later half of his life? If only he could have call them and made them deal with all the strange things that kept happening to him, is life would have been far less 'para' and a lot more normal.

 

Johnny was definitely no stranger to strangeness than the pope his to a church. Hummm… Yes, that’s a good analogy, he thought, if you ask the pope if he knew some churches, he would say yes, he probably knew of some, even probably visited some of them at some point. But all? No. But he would say, or maybe should, that he knew all of them because they are all the house of god. Or some voodoo like that.

 

Johnny got some… problems with religions and thinks they created more problems than they solved. It’s been like that ever since he had to deal with a small god of luck/bad luck/"better chance next time"… oh sorry, they don’t like to be called gods. They prefer to be called a “conscious anthropomorphic representation of an abstract concept”. Or so he was told anyway. The incident pretty much shacked every concept of divinity he had, but that is a story for another time.

 

Yep, he knows strangeness, bizarre, weird, de-axed from reality and completely _loco_ like they were his own family. Since he was twelve, things began happening to him and to those around him. A lot… Ok… maybe it was just a few times in most cases, but still, statically speaking, he estimated that long ago he passed the line of the average strange occurrence happening for the average person and it’s still pilling up to these days.

 

He can’t pretend he dealt with every problems in the world or that he knows everything (his girlfriend often drive that point home, and himself agrees that he was quite dumb most of the time) but even if he became quite knowledgeable, he still get a few surprises in every new adventures he stubble upon.

 

But all the same, he’s seen enough to become knowledgeable. It might not be the BPRD’s 'book smart', but 'street smart' is not without its merits.

 

‘ _Pff, like there are manuals to explain those things,’_ thought the Johnny in the backseat. _‘I know there’s none that are worth anything or they’re made with third hand knowledge and rumors. I know, I searched_.’

 

As you can imagines, those troubles tend to affect those around him as well but he always stepped up to the challenge to resolve all those strange issues around him.

 

If not him… who else?

 

Those BPRD guys, apparently.

 

*Sigh*

 

It's the alcohol. While the passenger rambles about the situation, the driver ignores him by focussing on the pint of blond in front of his windshield… I meant eyes!

 

Sorry.

 

Normally, Johnny is not that depressive or bitter. Even his 'sorryforhimselfness' is not that high (or low depending of how you look at it) in normal situation. He would even be trill to meet something like the BPRD. He would have enjoy getting some tips on some situations or exchanging stories on how the monster he fished was bigger then theirs and, perhaps, see what they could do about that happiness-leach he got sealed away in a jar of pickled beet he got buried in the backyard of his grandfather home, back inBlackbury. (Another story for another time)

 

He is even grateful that they’re here now.

 

Johnny knew how to deal with dead peoples, (well ghost to be exact, even if they don’t like being called that) he deals with them from time to time, even had one of them as a fencing teacher (again, for another time, ok?), but dead body? Never have to deal with that before. Thing no one else see? Ok, just crazy. Ominous dreams that are really real in another dimension within his very own head? Even more crazy, but still ok. Time travels, ex-pirates, possessions, fays, aliens, living building, crazy peoples and the most scary of all, his own girlfriend (by a large margin too). No problem. He dealt with all that in his time.

 

‘ _’In his time’’_ … ‘ _Boy,_ _I sound like an old man_.’

 

But death, with real blood, cold corps and no special effect like on telly? It slaps you in the face when you realise that it could have been you. All of those little adventures are child play compared to what you can find in this world. Beginning with his own species. If it wasn’t for the human nature the event of the last 48 hours would have been greatly different. The news of what happened made the national channel, with him in big plan saving the day.

 

If not him... who else?

 

There was no one else that could have save those peoples from their mistakes. The police? The firemen? They would have added to the body count. There was no more time and he was there. He saw the signs, warned them of the dreadful event but could not stop it. He done his best, all he could really, but he could not save everyone.

 

And that’s why Johnny Maxwell, a 21 years old college student in no field in particular, is feeling sorry for himself. He knows perfectly well he could have done nothing more, even so, he feel sorry for those peoples. He didn’t have any obligation to save them but standing on the side line would have been even worse to his conscience. He had to help them, but failing them halfway? Never completely saving the day?

 

Sure those he saved were grateful, but what about the family of those he couldn’t? How could he face them?

 

Apparently, he won’t have to if those guys in green jackets got anything to say about that. They’re doing everything they can to cover the truths. Just like the stories his girlfriend always tells him: conspiracies about men in black hiding every alien that land on the planet. She was right apparently. Better never let her know that, she would never let him lived it down.

 

He always thought for someone who is so intelligent (QI of 170, but the social grace of a flight of bricks), she always had her head full of conspiracies, aliens and high-adventures. She has the drive to see them trough but never to accept them for what they are, always searching for a conclusion or an explanation for what is simply… is. A hard head with a lot of space in between jam-packed to the rim with dreams and knowledge.

 

And maybe that’s why she is with him.

 

He isn’t that smart, she got plenty of it. He can make friend with anyone; she got difficulty relating with the rest of humanity. He is scatterbrained and disorderly; she is focused like a magnifying glass and more organised than a dictionary. He accepts that strange things happen to him, rather than doing something about it; she does something about it.

 

She gets all the excitements and mystery she seek and he get the girl for the mysteries that seek him.

 

A match made in heaven. They complete each other by being so different and scrapping on each other nerves most of the time, but that just how he likes her. Her solid vision of the world keeps him anchored with his fleeting one.

 

He built a theory over the year. That his head lacks the proper filter that keeps most of mankind from noticing how amazing the world is. Most people but those close to him don’t realise that extraordinary things happen around him. They block the world around them, not seeing what’s happening and when they do they put it on the count that Johnny is mental. And that was just fine with him.  Him and his friends.  He never needed more

 

But now, it spilled out of his head. Not literally, he had nothing to do with the incident other than being an impromptu participant. But what he normally accepted as part of his real life, most of the time which are things that nobody sane would ever want to be associated with, has been made terrifyingly real for some. Like ‘shoved in your face’ real.

 

And he was the only one around to deal with it... usually. Reality needed him to keep the unreal at bay and now the real world now knows the unreal reality of Johnny Maxwell.

 

*Sigh*

 

But coming back on the main subject, Johnny now find himself, sitting at a bar feeling sorry for himself and ruminating his dark thought (well not dark, more of a deep brown with the edge slightly burn. Dark thought is for villains in comic books, emos and politicians) about the peoples who suffered an unnatural deaths and his role in it.

 

Well, the death itself was quite natural; you can’t make a process more natural than dying. What would have been unnatural would have been not dying. With all the bits, pieces and diverse fluids everywhere... Oh god he remembered!

 

Quickly he downed the rest of his beer. 

 

Ah. The barman must have read his thoughts and in a pro barman that he is, gave him a refill. You got to appreciate a man who knows what the others need when they want to forget... certain ‘Pieces’... of memories.

 

Johnny didn’t know why the barman was still there. Maybe all the guys in uniform will want a few rounds of drinks when it’s over.

 

And that the fifth details of the setting that hinder his mood: with all the forty peoples in the room including him and the barman, he was the only one not armed and everybody was watching him like a hawk.

 

*Sigh*

 

He needed a stronger drink.

 

 

Chapter 2:

Do you know that one: “An English man is sitting at a bar when a devil enters and sit beside him. And the devil ask...?"

I wonder how this joke finish?

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

**Do you know that one: “An English man is sitting at a bar when**

**a devil enters and sit beside him. And the devil asks...”?**

 

“Rough day huh?” asked a rougher voice (and what a rough day it had been, but this voice, you could use it as sandpaper). Johnny didn’t even need to look from his glass to know that the guy with the deep baritone voice who just sat to his left would be huge. Just like his presence.

 

He seemed to fill the room more than all the other peoples combined. Like a fifteen wheeler parked in the middle of a bunch of scooters. Which was funny because Johnny didn’t notice him until he took a seat at the bar.

 

 _‘Not exactly funny’_ thought the Johnny who was in the back seat, _‘I’m just trying to delude myself from the fact that he almost made me wet my frock’_

 

Johnny once took a part time job in a small zoo to pay for his college tuition. That summer, the zoo proposed a new exhibit to bring costumers: a Bengal tiger, directly from the wild. Which was a lie; because the overgrown cat had actually been bought as a cub by some rich peoples who believed that owning a tiger would be really ‘classy’. They didn’t count on the fact that one can not tame a wild animal completely. Something they learned the hard way when the tiger accidently hurt one of the children, barely a scratch, but the animal was deemed too dangerous by the owners and was given to the zoo.

 

We don’t really know what says the most about the owners; the fact were stupid enough to let a small child approach the beast without supervision or that said owners got a crocodile afterward.

 

On one of the times that Johnny was washing the floor in front of the tiger’s pen, keeping a distracted eye on the sleeping animal through the glass. The next time looked up from the floor; he was starring directly in the eyes of the absolute evil. He didn’t feel nor heard the tiger move at all, and then it was just in front of him, gazing at him like he was his new chew toy with only a panel of flimsy glass separating them.

 

Or so it seemed at the moment. Instinct million of year old had screamed at Johnny to to run a thousand miles or that the very least go climb the nearest tree.

 

The story did not end here but it is a long tale of a bizarre summer that led Johnny to help the twelve animal spirit of the Chinese zodiac pass the (Chinese) New Year. In the end, it helped catch some poachers, cost him his job, fixed the universe a little and he never heard of the animal again.

 

To resume, what Johnny retained from the event was the feeling of a predator creeping up on you, a felling not quite like any other. And the guy just beside him was like that. Now the question was: do I act like a civilized person or do I stay still in the hope that he only perceives movement?

 

And Johnny took upon himself to prove that once more, human are stupid by following the rules of etiquette and good manners in place of survival rules.

 

He nodded in acknowledgement at his now barstool neighbour. What at shitty day it was.

 

And Johnny took his courage in both hands, told it to the Man-Up-There and took a glance to his left and stopped at was resting on the bar. He only saw a hand like that once, in person anyway, and did not need to look up to know who the owner was.

 

It was enormous, red and chiselled; and it belongs to none other than Hellboy.

 

Everyone who didn’t live under a rock did hear or read about him once. And Johnny did know peoples who live under rocks and he would bet that even they probably heard about that guy (once again for the sake of not interrupting, it’s a story for another time.) There were articles about him in the Time magazine, the Rolling Stones, the National Geographic and just about every other paper that talked about OVNI, conspiracies and the New-Ages stuff. He did not read those, his life was complex enough as it was. He didn’t need anything that would only complicate it further. But his dear girlfriend often read those in a quest for explanations for every irrational thing that happened around him.

 

*Sigh*

 

He knows that there was no answer to his… ‘lifestyle’? Maybe it’s because of what is at the very base of it: life. He never had the heart to tell her that, she seems to have so much fun with her research. But if there is an answer to the what, when, where, why and how… it wouldn’t mean its part of the solution.

 

Sometime you just have to accept things as they are. And that’s something he always had a hard time explaining to her, or maybe not getting ‘it’ was just her way of showing she cared.

 

On occasion she would stumble across an article about a giant red devil with a tail (‘ _and a tale’_. Backseat Johnny laughed at his own cheap joke). No clear photos, no good camera footages, just doubtful witnesses and speculations, bringing Hellboy to the rank of urban legends and hoaxes on Devil’s Night.

 

She regularly talked to him about Hellboy, and Johnny listened to her in the shy silence of those who don’t necessarily believe but doesn’t have the courage to tell otherwise. As a good boyfriend, he learned that sometimes you just have to shut up and listen.

 

And then one day. BAM! News about Hellboy everywhere. Exposed to the grand ray of the sun like dried tomatoes. Even then Johnny was doubting, he thought it was an actor disguised, making publicity for a film or something.

 

‘ _Oh boy, was I ever wrong_.’

 

_‘Me, Grand Britain most powerful weirdness magnet was doubting the existence of someone like Hellboy. Despite everything I experienced in my life, I didn’t believe despite the proof. Well miss ‘Life’ and Mister ‘Universe’ joined hands to teach me a lesson by putting my nose right into it…’_

 

After contemplating his though, he took a quaff of his beer and proclaimed to Hellboy: “So you changed job? I heard the hours in the delivery business are killer.”

 

‘ _Ouch, should have chosen better wording after tonight_.’

 

But Hellboy didn’t point out his social ‘faux pas’ and playfully responded: “So it was really you. I almost didn’t believe it when I read your file. Small world huh?” But for Johnny, it sounded like it was told in a tone similar to someone who never really get surprised anymore because he already know the butt of the joke.

 

 _‘Translation: “I am not surprised that someone I met before got into trouble in my line of work”. Wonderful.’_ Johnny thought dripping with sarcasm.

 

Both remembered their more than brief meeting that happened about a year and a half ago.

 

For Hellboy, it was an assignment that had him throwing fits at the simple mention of “scrubbing” and “rock climbing” for about a month afterwards.

 

And for Johnny, it was when a really big red devil with stubble of horns sticking out of his forehead arrived on campus when he was playing Frisbee on the lawn with his old buddy Bigmac who’s going at the same campus as him.

 

Bigmac, one of the three skinheads of Blackbury and bane of all the social workers, surprised everyone (including himself) when he won a scholarship for solving some mathematical riddle.

                                                                                                                  

The tower of muscles, the same color of their bricks counterpart, trusted at him a Fed Ex bag that had seen better day saying “Delivery” and left as abruptly as he came.

 

Johnny didn’t have a mirror at the moment but if his expression looked anything like that of Bigmac’s, his eyes would have been near falling off. It caused a big uproar on campus, besides being mobbed for two days and having to escape from just about every teacher who kept asking him if he made some sort of a deal with the devil for better grades. Which was stupid of course, if one looked at his grade afterward they would say he got sharked in the deal.

 

It was only after the dust settled that he opened the bag and discover the response to a letter he sent when he was fourteen for a an assignment in social studies. The gist of it was that all the students were to send a letter to someone somewhere in the world and ask a question in hope of a reply. His old gang, Wobble, Bigmac, Yo-less and himself decided they would all top each other by sending their respective letter to someone improbable of responding and the one to get a reply win.

 

Yo-less, one of the most boring person you could think of and he still would be more boring, send his letter to a foreign politician and received a copy paste letter thanking him for his attention and to vote for him. (He was eliminated because his question was not answered.)

 

Wobble send his letter to a pornographic magazine, believing that nobody would top that, but since they answered in the fan-letter section of the magazine with a simple “Yes”. The question didn’t matter since the professor refused that he brought an adult magazine to school and was given a zero. Even if his question was answered he lost by a technicality. ‘ _He never admitted how he got hold of the magazine at fourteen.’_

 

Johnny in his case pondered for a long while to whom he could send the letter and what question he should ask. Inspiration came in the form of a televised documentary about Buddhist monks who lived in mountain temples searching for the truth of existence or something like that. And Johnny thought that if someone could answer a question it would be them. They have ample time to think it seemed.

 

After a trip to a library in order to find the most lost and obscure temple possible he found himself at a Fed Ex counter because the post doesn’t deliver ‘’in the middle of no-where’’ apparently. The letter was sent with all his economy (his poor, poor, little piggybank) and the assurance from the woman at the counter that they delivered everywhere.

 

In the end the never got an answer, which was a bummer because he was damn proud of his question too.

 

So Johnny was forced to re-do the assignment with a random address given to him by the teacher which he took from a bank of addresses kept for such cases. The new letter with the new question got sent to Taiwan this time and prompted Johnny in a mysterious case that got solved by corresponding with fifteen others around the world to find the long lost statue of a long dead sculptor. The statue now rest in a museum somewhere in Russia and his *cough*major*cough* participation in solving the mystery reduced to a footnote.

 

Which prove once more that no matter what he does, even homework, it takes a different way than what was intended.

 

He still correspond with some of the other ‘footnotes’ every now and then, which reminded him that he ought to send a letter to Kate Corrigan soon, one of his best pen pal.

 

In the very end, it was Bigmac who won the bet. He had sent his letter to a prisoner on death row in the States. Nobody slept right for a while, after he read the prisoner’s reply in front of the class. Everybody in the class hoped they wouldn’t butch the execution, Bigmac being the first.

 

The silence between Hellboy and Johnny stretched on like a dirty sock that sticks to the foot without looking anywhere ready to give up its hold.

 

The two of them seemed to be stuck on how to continue the conversation when Hellboy suddenly got inspired on how to relate to the moody Brit. He just had to bring his level of conscience at the same level!

 

He then promptly asked the barman for two pints.

 

 

 

**End of Chapter 2**

**Follow us in the next chapters where a whole pint of beer gets forgotten by the authors**

**and where two paranormal oddities face bureaucracy …**


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

**Filling questionnaires for dummies**

 

 

And he proceeded to gulp it in one try, impressing Johnny with his drinking prowess and if not, on his lung capacity. We are talking about an English pint of beer here, not a flimsy can of yellow water American try to pass of as ale. We are talking about a drink that as more in common with bread than spirits. A brew so thick you have to finish the end of the keg with a spoon. The mugs are high and your beverage, which was already room temperature at the beginning, gets lukewarm by the end.

 

Even Johnny, who seldom drank because his head is already nebulous enough as it is, can find in him a shred of the national pride drinkers possess and respect someone who can down it like a pro.

 

Or laugh his ass off when it will all go back the same way after they tried to prove that their country got better alcoholic then ours. Being a college student is fun.

 

And now Hellboy felt his consciousness adjust to the appropriate level being in a bar generally required, the alcoholic bubbles in his brain whispered to him the next great thing he should say.

 

“Hey, pass the peanuts will ya?” See! It’s already working!

 

Johnny did so, marveling at the American accent. Just like in the movies. To him, he sounded like a caring army drill instructor with a giant hand of stone in a velvet glove or one of those hardboiled cops that have seen too much. Or maybe it’s the cowboy type...?

 

Johnny mussing almost made him miss the next bout of conversation and apparently it was concerning him.

 

“You know, looking at ya, no one would think you could have the balls to pull what you did today. You look like every other Joes out there but you, you stepped up to the challenge without even asking. Or thinking, apparently. Some ordinary guy passes his whole life without making waves and then one day, ‘BAM’ he is the cause of a small apocalypse… Or he saves the day, in your case.”

 

That was in a roundabout way how Johnny perceived himself. Only in his case he usually finds that he has to fill both roles. Not necessary in that order.

 

“Did you know they were a dangerous group? Cultists are not to be trifled with you know and one of them had a gun too.” Hellboy said, assessing Johnny reaction.

 

That shook Johnny up a little. He never even considered one of those maniacs could have been armed. The ‘thing’ they tried to summon kind of monopolise his attention, that and the empty skins. The inside slurped right out, like a smoothie.

 

“A big fat lot that did him, didn’t it?” The un-enthusiasm youth sarcastically replied.

 

Nodding, Hellboy continued while getting a manila folder from his coat.

 

“So I carefully read your file, to see if there was anything that could tell who or what you are. Almost boring really, textbook boy with problem youth. But strangely… you don’t seem to cause any real troubles. It’s more like you always seem to find yourself where the troubles at.” He glimpse at Johnny who had a… perplex look on his face.

 

Johnny did not know what to think. He didn’t recall having a ‘troubled youth’. It’s everybody else that seemed to have problems. As for being at the wrong place at the wrong time… he admits that’s one bad habit he couldn’t shake off.

 

“I almost dismissed it when I noticed something. When you read it normally you don’t see anything worth mentioning, but when you check it as a whole, there a lot of things that stands out or maybe I should say ‘they make you stand out’.” He said, turning his head from the file in question.

 

Johnny was still looking at him and about then realised he couldn’t escape the eventual questioning and he preferred looking at his inquisitor right in the eyes.

 

_‘Oh, bollock. The guy got yellow eyes like a cat. How much devilish looking you can get? And not in the good way.’_

 

The guy got the bulk of those you don’t want to cross in a dark alley and the eyes of what you think roam under the bed. Johnny once met with what’s hiding under the beds and it wasn’t a mouse or a cockroach but real monsters that use the underside of every child’s bed as a portal to their world and use the energy created by the scream of terrors. That changed recently when they discovered that the energy gathered from laughter is far more efficient.

 

Uhn… Ok, that one bizarre enough to warrant an explanation.

 

Johnny discovered them when he helped his girlfriend babysit one of her young cousin. It was the typical ‘babysitter invite her boyfriend to make out on the couch while the critter is sleeping’ scenario and everything was going according to plan when they heard laughing coming from the bed room. His girlfriend had gone to check on the little interrupting pest… he meant the child with an awful timing… when he heard several cries of surprise, karate ‘kya’ accompanied by several howls of pain punctuated by plea for mercy and a whole fanfare of things falling and breaking.

 

Johnny raced toward the bedroom, not worrying about his girlfriend too much because at the time she was already an expert in two martial arts, but hoping to stop any poor burglars from spending more time than necessary in the hospital. In is opinion a month ought to be enough.  

 

But what he found in the room was his girl doing her best to do a Full Nelson on what was apparently a struggling green ball with one giant eye, accompanied by a mouth and the standard number of arms and legs who looked frightened while talking really fast. There was also a rather unique looking giant blue Sasquatch, with more teeth’s than a comb and horns, which burst from the closet roaring his lungs out, gesticulating and doing everything to look menacing while not really doing anything else.

 

Everybody but Johnny was screaming and panicking, until he decided it was enough and whistled as hard as he could to get everyone attention. Using their stupor he managed to calm everyone and asked them to stop for a moment. The next half hours was passed with Johnny defusing the situation and using his special talent of getting along with almost everyone.

 

He learned a great deal with this encounter and learned that the ‘monsters in the closet’, ‘monsters under the bed’ and ‘toilet monsters’ are all workers for different companies in their world. Johnny almost blurted out the joke that if someone worked for the Toillet Monster inc., you really must be at the ‘bottom’ of the industry.

 

He never met them again but he is now happy that knowing some of his childhood trauma could have been resolved with a baseball bat. A habit Johnny took after that experience.

 

(See? See?! That what happen when I explain every single past adventures and anecdotes. I take a tangent that need forever to explain and they barely are relevant to the story. So now you get why I don’t explain every single thing or we will never get to end of the chapter.)

 

But Hellboy eyes did not look monstrous in the least. They looked old. A really old evil that looked through him, at every nook and cranny of his soul to see if he was guilty. Moms generally got the same power but slightly less creepy in most case.

 

And those eyes were asking him a question.

 

Who was he?

 

Johnny felt he had to say it. To explain everything even if he didn’t knew himself that well. So he settled asking a question of his own.

 

“Hum... I have a file?” His old habit to begin his phrase with ‘hum’s’ came back when he was nervous. His girlfriend hated that and made sure to beat it out of him a long time ago.

 

“Now you do!” he replied with a pearly white smile. His cheery tone reminded Johnny of this used car seller who said he ‘forgot’ to mention you that the car was haunted right after you signed the rock solid contract. Johnny did have fond memory of that first car though. Until it decided to suicide itself in a loch in Scotland.

 

Oh great, wait until he tell that to Kristy (is girlfriend), she would have a field day with this.

 

It was Hellboy turns to be impressed. He didn’t meet a lot of people who could sustain a starring contest with him. They generally tend to do so by glaring harder than him. And there was this British six foot blond with brown eyes who managed to stare at his scary peepers without flinching. Instead he looked at him with acceptance of what was in front of him at face value. He seemed calm with a touch of nervousness and worries, which could be associated with the whole situation.

 

“They put this up in only a few hours. Funny how you can condense someone life in half an inch of papers”, Hellboy said half to himself half to Johnny. “I have a couple of questions about it if you would. Just some point I’d like to clarify.”

 

“Hum... if I can be of help...” Johnny wasn’t sure of what they could have found. Or worst, what they could have half-found. There’s noting worse than law enforcement knowing half-something about you. They could decide to investigate or if its look bad enough decide they know enough. Guilty or not doesn’t matter. Because after any amount of time passed on that side of the law, you must be convinced that everyone is guilty of something.

 

It was the main reason why Johnny never wanted to become a copper.

 

Hellboy turned away to turn the pages of the file on the counter. He must have felt the look Johnny was giving the pile of paper (like it was going to grow teeth’s and attack) Hellboy tried easing him a little.

 

“It’s mostly legal stuff, like you birth certificate, medical records, schools grade, where you have banks accounts, etc, etc. Also there are psychological reports, juridical, criminal records and of course the BPRD reports and record files. And Google search.”

 

“You’re an international organisation fighting the paranormal and you rely on google search?”

 

“You wouldn't believe what you can find. Try tapping my name; I don’t remember half the stuff that I have done that is on the Net. And the other half is baloney by the way.”

 

Not giving in to the ‘WTF’ look the young man beside him was giving him, Hellboy flipped some pages searching for something. “Ah, there we go. I have to fill in this questionnaire you see”, said a clearly unenthusiastic Hellboy, who the prospect of more paperwork was as appealing as trekking trough a rotting bog. “Some guy behind a desk wasn’t satisfied with the reports and they came up with this piece of unnecessary paper. *sigh*. It was a lot easier before the guys with pens began deciding what was more important instead of the guy with the guns.”

 

Johnny sent a silent thank you to the guy behind the desk whoever it was, because Hellboy had a reeeeaaaaally big gun on his belt.

 

Johnny at this point did not mind the question, as long it wasn’t: ‘Was it you who did it?’ ‘I know it’s you who did it so why don’t you spill?’ Or the dreadful: ‘Two plus two?’ While the guy hold a really think phone book.

 

Not waiting for his interlocutors Hellboy began anyway: “Johnny Maxwell, 21, born and lived in Blackbury until 2 year ago when you moved to London for college. So far so good?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Parent divorced in 1997, still lives in Blackbury. Grandfather deceded in 1999, one cousin in Australia...?”

 

“Again, yes.”

 

“Marital status?”

 

“In a relationship.”

 

“Live together or apart”

 

“Together.”

 

“Your present part time job is...”

 

“Waiter at an Italian restaurant.”

 

“Got a driver permit?”

 

“Yes, but no car at the moment.”

 

“Hobbies?”

 

“Reading and videogame.”

 

“Prefered genres?”

 

“For reading or video game?”

 

“Both.”

 

“Sci-fi and fantasy”

 

“Sports practiced?”

 

“Fencing, jujitsu, jogging”

 

“Any good at one of those?”

 

“When it comes to run for my life, I’m pretty good.”

 

“Smoker?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Drugs?”

 

“Nah.”

 

“Alcohol?”

 

Johnny lifted his beer in a salute, “Of course!”

 

“Interested in politics?”

 

“Bunch of rubbish.”

 

“Type of music?”

 

“Rock, Classic and Metal.”

 

“Chocolate or vanilla?”

 

“Pistachio.”

 

“Last movie seen in theaters.”

 

“Titanic.”

 

“Any known enemy?”

 

“Not to my knowledge.”

 

“Seen any ghosts lately?”

 

“Yes but they don’t like to be called that.” Johnny took a swig of his beer.

 

“...”

 

“...” Johnny still drinking his beer with his eyes threatening to fall off his orbit when he realized what he admitted. Shit.

 

In Johnny’s head, the one in the backseat tapped on the driver’s shoulder and ask to switch. The thinking side of him needed to be in commend.

 

“So, it was that kind of questionnaire, huh!” It was more of an affirmation than a question.

 

“Yes, one of ‘those kind’.” Answered Hellboy.

 

Whoops. Did he say that last part out loud? Must have brushed the speak button when his mental projection swap seats.

 

Taking a second to stay silent and stare at the bottom of his drink in search of some kind of wisdom that could be found there Johnny took a decision.

 

Considering who was asking the questions and the nature of those... what would happen if he answered those truthfully? Maybe he could get some of those so rare answers he was searching for.

 

And after today, in how much more trouble could he get into?

 

The new driver finally buckled in his seat and smirk at the thought. Time to ask a question of his own.

 

“Would you believe me? About all those incredible and unbelievable things that always happen to me? And not thinking that I’m good for the loony bin or need to be dissected to figure out what’s making me tic? Would you?” Johnny asked dead serious.

 

Hellboy took a second to take it all in and answered with a solemn but truthful tone. “Kid, I have seen, heard and did things so extraordinary, fucked up and incredible that would scare the hairs out of your head. And just from what you just said, I know you’re not a poser.” He paused to take a gulp of his beer before continuing.

 

“Whether I will believe you or not or even consider you good for the crazy house will probably go through my rubric of ‘Been there, done that and that was last Wednesday’. I will not judge you, I will take the time to hear everything that you have to say and if it’s within my capability, I will probably even offer my help.”

 

For Johnny, it was like a weight has been lifted from his shoulder that was sitting there for years. He nodded his head to tell Hellboy he was ready to continue.

 

“Ok” Hellboy was kind of glad he managed to get through with the guy. “But before we continue, do you know some pretty girl that would knock out three of my guy steal their uniforms to pass around the security to try to bust you out of here with a skinhead and a black guy who look like he got a stick up his ass.”

 

Johnny blanched.

 

“Kristy, my girlfriend and with her that would be Yo-less and Bigmac”

 

“Oh, good. She sent eight of my guys to the infirmary when we try to subjugated her and we were wondering who she was.” Hellboy said with half a smile.

 

Johnny banged his head on the counter.

 

 

 

**You know you’re in love... when it makes you go for tired old movie cliché**

**and you mount a rescue for your boyfriend.**


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

**They should write a song about this…**

 

After an embarrassing moment asking if his girlfriend and his friends were all right and wondering if he should call a lawyer… Hellboy reassured Johnny that everybody were fine and that he would use his influence to make sure the BPRD doesn’t press charges. Provided Johnny was forthcoming with the rest of the meeting.

 

 _‘How American of him’_ , passed through Johnny mind, one of the dials in the dashboard pointing to sarcasm.

 

Hellboy downed his pint of beer like it was lemonade and the barman put a new one right away. It was a good barman; he didn’t give any hints being impressed or disturbed by Hellboy presence, treating him like any other customers. He mustn’t even be the weirdest thing he saw sitting at his counter. _‘Bar counters ought to attract a lot of weirdoes’,_ mused Johnny.

 

It was time for real questions and there was no need for subtleties this time.

 

Oh boy, now Johnny was nervous for totally different reasons. He sucked at explaining all the strange shit that keeps happening to him. He did not even know where to begin about that time in the mirror labyrinth of that carnival with all clones… or how do you explain you’re the reason the Macarena even exist? It’s the kind of things you have to be there when it happens or it makes no sense otherwise.

 

Hellboy took another pile of paper from the portfolio, fumbled with it a little before putting it on the counter and staining the corner a little with a ring of bear.

 

 _‘What is he going to ask? What do you even ask at this kind of thing? Will I be able to answer at all?’_ ,Johnny was even beginning to panic a little when his rambling taking him from one thing to another and he ended up wondering why Hellboy wasn’t wearing half-moon glass. A good interrogation with a questionnaire should come with half-moon glass…

 

“What are you?”

 

“… eh?”

 

The Johnny in the driver seats slammed the brakes with both feet, leaving tires marks on his brain. Hellboy looked serious. He even had a pen in his hand, poised on the paper, with carbon copies in triplicate, ready to put down whatever Johnny would say.

 

Hellboy came to the rescue: “Do you consider yourself human for example?”

 

If that was a rescue, Timmy would like to be left in the well please. It was getting philosophical here. Normally, he would have expected to be ask a question like that out of M. Franktown class, his philosophy teacher who seemed to have a beef with Johnny for some reason, always picking on him with the questions that have no answers.

 

Then it occurred to Johnny that just today, he saw something shaped in five dimension turning cultist into mush, greeted good morning to Mi Fa Hang, the self-aware painting on his Ming Dynasty flower vase, planned to phone his Spaniard ghost of a fencing teacher to push back the training session next Friday because he had a paper due with Ms. Clawell, who until he met Hellboy tonight, would have swear she was a demon (a math demon to be exact). So maybe the question was more literal than it sounded.

 

But to be sure… “As opposed to…?” he let the question in suspension hoping Hellboy would fill the blank.

 

“Anything. See I have all these lines to write, they gave up using little squares to put an x into with the right categories, after the third addendum to this thing, the first question took four pages.”

 

“Then yes, I am a human.” _‘I think. I hope…’_

 

“Ok… Next. Why are you here?”

 

_‘That’s it. If he goes quantum physic with the next question I am out of here.’_

 

“Well, some thinks God took a lump of clay and...”

 

Hellboy interrupted him right here. “No, right here right now, in this situation. Why did you do it when you could have fled with the rest of the crowd?”

 

“I didn’t stop to ask myself why, I just… acted.”

 

“Humhum” Hellboy wrote down something, which Johnny tried to spy on. Wait, did he just write: ‘suffer from idiotic heroisms’?

 

“Do you believe in paranormal occurrence? I always found that one a little stupid since we always use this questionnaire after something like this happen…”

 

“I don’t believe in them, it would be like believing in the postman. They’re real alright and they’ve been plaguing my live since I was 12.”

 

“Ok… Do you see or have seen either: ghost, spirits or dead peoples?”

 

“All of the above and all the time”, replied Johnny. “I even see one regularly. And they don’t like to be called ghost, you know.”

 

For Hellboy, that last comment cemented in his mind that this kid wasn’t selling him bullshit. In general they preferred to be called ‘post living individuals’.

 

“Is there one right here right now?” he asks testing the young man. To add to the effect, he was starring intensely at a spot behind the left shoulder of the barman. Johnny looked as intensely at the same spot, making the barman sweat with nervousness. Now he really wanted to turn around really badly to check if there was, in fact, something there.

 

“The only spirit I see… (the barman almost dropped the glass he was polishing), is that bottle of scotch you have been eying since you got there”, Johnny said teasing the poor barman.

 

“Yes, well, oh for what it’s gonna… Eh mister, bring us two glasses and leave the bottle here, will ya? So you said you see one on regular bases?”

 

“Uh? Oh, yes, my fencing teacher actually. Inigo Montoya, heard of him?”

 

“Nope, can’t say the name’s rings a bell.” Putting up the paper to his eyes he continued with the questions, “Do have you ever been in contact with alien? ...Eh kid what’s wrong?”

Johnny shoulders were shaking in silent laughter at his own personal joke muttering something about video game in his beer, before he managed to get back enough serious to answer.

 

“Probably, but I am not sure with the circumstance if it’s counts. It’s kind of hard to explain.”

 

“We’ll come back to that later then. Time travels?”

 

“Oh… Those always give me a headache.”

 

“Tell me about it. Vampires?”

 

“Assholes. All of them.”

 

“Werewolves?”

 

“Oh, puppies! No seriously, I met with a were-Chihuahua once, he felt so miserable about himself … boy, was he pathetic.”

 

“Any other mythical figures and/or legends?”

 

“A few… I found that the stories generally get blown out of proportion after 500 years.”

 

“Magic?”

 

“I have dealt with Chinese shamanism, voodoo, cultism, artefacts and over enthusiast and improbable prestidigitators.”

 

“Are you cursed?”

 

“I’ve been asking myself that one a lot lately. So no not that I know of.”

 

“Are you the reincarnation of somebody?”

 

“Maybe, I don’t remember. But isn’t it everyone’s a reincarnation anyway?”

 

“Are you tied to a destiny or someone prophesised something about you?”

 

“Euuh… Hope not, sound like a lot of trouble. I saw this gypsy once at the carnival, my friend though it would be funny to get our future read. Once it was my turn, well, she got this really cross-eyed look at the card and me, then she told us to get out and she closed for the night. I came back later and I saw her behind her tent burning her tarot deck…”

 

“Really?” Hellboy asked with a little incredulity.

 

“Yes but I try to not think about it too much.” He said looking a little depressed.

 

“Anything else come to mind?”

 

Johnny tried to think real hard, shuffling through the clustered memory shelves. “There was this really specific fortune cookie…”

 

No good can come from a fortune cookie. “All right, moving on! How many time have your life been at risk from a paranormal encounter or events?”

 

“Lost count.”

 

“How do you deal with all the abnormality?”

 

“With philosophy.” Johnny then downed the half full and half empty glass of scotch with great philosophy. His throat felt like it was set on fire and steam puffed out of his ears but he refused his body the desperate need to coughs-it-off, like a newbie drinker. _‘Damn… that’s hard stuff…’_   

 

Hellboy lifted his own glass, “To philosophy.”, and drank like it was water before refilling both glasses.

 

“But what I mean is: how you do approach a situation, a phenomenon or a creature you never encountered before?”

 

Johnny took his time with that one, the question was not so simple. Or it was the alcohol that slowed his brain. “It’s the damn hardest thing isn’t it? Sometime it’s best to leave things as they are. They’ve been working without us for eons and they’ll continue to do so long after we will be gone. I mean, why smash the clock, it’s not like its going to stop time…Yeah… Most of the time… its better not to do anything and let things take their course.”

 

He pause to take another sip of that flaming liquid. Hellboy said noting feeling that Johnny wasn’t done.

 

“But… That’s being complacent. Sometime… Sometime peoples, humans or creatures, suffer and just because it’s always been like this. And sometimes that’s ok to let thing go and turn a blind eyes, but some other times it’s not ok at all.”

 

The rest of the glass of scotch disappeared down his throat.

 

He continued: “People don’t want problems, they want their little routine to continue on and on and on, even at the detriment of something or someone else. And it’s like lighting a fire next to a firework factory. It will eventually die out and then, **one** spark will float toward the factory… Sometime… it’s better to put on the big boots and stomp the fire before it get too big even if you step on a few toes in the process.”

 

“Like today?” Hellboy inquired.

 

Johnny nodded. “Yes, but this time, the campfire was a… desert one.”

 

“A desert campfire?”

 

“You know… they don’t have much wood in the desert so they use dried up dung in…”

 

“Ah, I see what you mean.” Hellboy cut him off, the image of stomping on big pile of flaming shit not being really appetizing, even if accurate in his experience.

 

Johnny wasn’t done though. “And then, there’s the times when what you need to do is being all discreet and stuff. Like a ninja.”

 

“Sound like you had a lot of experience. Did someone taught you anything about this stuff?”

 

“No.” ‘ _Whish there was_.’ “It was mostly, try and error.”

 

“And how do you determine if you get to leave stuff alone or ‘put your boots on’ as you say?”

 

“Like I said, that’s what so hard about this. You never know if you’ll do more harm than good. You have to use your best judgment.”

 

There was a pause in the conversation; Hellboy had a lot to put down on paper, before he began asking question again.

 

“Let’s get back to business, any hereditary diseases?”

 

“Beside a receding hairline and the fact that everyone in the family needs glasses when they hit forty, no.”

 

“So, any prosthetic?”

 

“Well… My great gram-pa stepped on a land mine in the war and got a wooden leg, but I don’t think that’s hereditary.”

 

Ignoring the cheeks in Johnny voice, he followed with:“What about mental illnesses?”

                                                    

“I have this theory that I lack the most common filter in my brain that supposed to block all the weird stuff, but I never got a professional opinion on that…”

 

Hellboy wrote the following commentary on the document: “Schedule for a CT scan ASAP…”

 

“Any other known diseases?”

 

“Nope…”

 

“Have you ever gone hunting?”

 

“Euh… no?”

 

“Fishing?”

 

“Once.”

 

“Camping?”

 

“Ok with it I guess… But I kind of loose my car every time I do…”

 

“Every time?”

 

“Not on purpose…”

 

“Plan on traveling and see the world?”

 

“Sound fun but…”

 

“When do you finish school?”

 

“In about seven month, why do…”

 

Not letting him finish. “Do you have anything plan afterward?”

 

“Find a job, I guess, but what…”

 

“Sign here, here and here” Hellboy trusted the document under Johnny hands not letting him think.

 

“Ok ok. Sheesh.” As Johnny finished the last letter Hellboy pulled back the document almost making Johnny do a smear all over the papers and gave him a business card with something scribble on it.

 

“Present yourself there once you have finished school. Initial training is about six months and Boot camp is another six months. After that I will make sure you get transferred to the Colorado branch. Got it? Good now excuse me I have someone else to interview.”

 

It took, a full minute before Johnny brain finished rebooting. Did he just get offered a job?

 

“WAIT!” Hellboy was almost at the door. “That was a job interview!? But, but…I… you… but… before you…???”

 

The tall man turned around a smirk on his red mug, a new cigar on his lips, the match midway to meet it.

 

He told Johnny: “You impressed a lot of people today kid. It’s not often that we find interesting candidate like you. It’s the offer of a lifetime kid. It will be dangerous, extremely, but it’s probably one of the rare places on earth that you will thrive. I’ll let you think about it. The pay is good, we got great assurance and a kick-ass dental plan by the way.” He was about to turn around when Johnny cried out to him again. ‘ _That was fast…_ ’

 

Johnny was still eying the card Hellboy gave him but he looked up and said: “On one condition.”

 

Hellboy expected that, rising an eyebrow in mock surprise… “And what is it?”

 

“You extend the offer to one more person.” Stated Johnny all serious.

 

To his Johnny astonishment, Hellboy bellowed a big laugh, humoured by something escaping Johnny.

 

“Hahahahahahaha. Haha. Ha. I swear kid, me and you will get along like two peas in a pod. You need to pay more attention kid; I said that I needed to give one more interview tonight. I was on my way to meet her again already.”

 

Johnny must have a really dumbstruck look on his face because Hellboy started to laugh again looking at it. “But… didn’t you arrest her?”

 

“Yeah, so? It’s not the first time we passed a job interview when the cuffs are still on.” Hellboy passed the door, the night engulfing him.

 

Johnny kept starring at the doorway for a long while, fingering the card in his hands, asking himself what he got into and what the future will bring.

 

Yes, he already made his decision.

 

He grabbed the bottle and drank directly from it, a new air of direction and determination hanging around him.

 

 

 

**Johnny: I save the world and it land me a job? Must be Wednesday.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bookeater: Man, I had fun writing that one. The funny thing about this story was that when I began writing it years ago, it was the first fanfiction that I tried to write without the company of my co-author. Then the project got on ice, then I finished chapter 2 and 3 with her, then after that I had to move to a new town and I had to finish it alone with out her to motivate me. We now do the co-authoring stuff online now but… it’s not really the same. But I think it will work, and that the stories won’t suffer in the end.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story, because for me, working with one of the character created by Sir Terry Pratchett was something special for me. Now onto the epilogue…
> 
>  
> 
> Shiroyuki: Once again I had to figuratively whip his ass into working *^_^*
> 
> Once upon a time he made me read the first chapter, it was great and I wanted more but we had a prior engagement. So it was put on the back burner for a while, up until the moment were I saw him twiddling his thumb while I was doing some correction work on “A place to belong”. Seeing we had a few things waiting on ice I randomly picked one and said/order: Work on that! 
> 
> And there, you have it the nice little story on how this fic came to be *^_^*


	5. Chapter 5

 

** Epilogue **

** Or **

** Philosophy hurts **

 

 

The next day in Johnny and Kristy’s little flat, around noon.

 

She was seated on the ratty couch, he sprawled over it his head on her laps.

 

She was playing with his hairs with a smug look in her face. He tried to stay motionless with a wet towel over his eyes, wishing he didn’t have a face.

 

The night had been eventful and left her with a bruise ego, him with a giant hangover and a strange job offer for both of them.

 

But it could just end like this.

 

“I told you so.”, Sing-sang Kristy.

 

A small pitiful groan was the only answer he could muster.


End file.
